


Sabal or Amita? Place your bet!

by lynol



Series: Breaking the FarCry4th Wall [1]
Category: Far Cry 3, Far Cry 4
Genre: Breaking the Fourth Wall, Gen, and no one is dead here, everyone is happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 22:54:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17610590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynol/pseuds/lynol
Summary: Every citizen in Kyrat has rushed into Shanath Arena, with moonshine and food in their hands and watching the big screen hanging on the wall. Yes, it’s the Jalendu mission already! Biggest event of each round in the Far Cry 4 world! People bet on their favorite Golden Path leader, sitting side by side with their friends while Ajay Ghale is reporting on the screen, cheering or moaning after the results come out.Pagan Min is there too, he’s always there when the Jalendu is around the corner, with his bestie Gary standing around and fulfilling whatever he needs. And Yuma is there too, showing her forever poker face to the crowd as she always does.





	Sabal or Amita? Place your bet!

Every citizen in Kyrat has rushed into Shanath Arena, with moonshine and food in their hands and watching the big screen hanging on the wall. Yes, it’s the Jalendu mission already! Biggest event of each round in the Far Cry 4 world! People bet on their favorite Golden Path leader, sitting side by side with their friends while Ajay Ghale is reporting on the screen, cheering or moaning after the results come out.  
Pagan Min is there too, he’s always there when the Jalendu is around the corner, with his bestie Gary standing around and fulfilling whatever he needs. And Yuma is there too, showing her forever poker face to the crowd as she always does. Paul sits a few seats away from Pagan in the VIP balcony. Noore is on the stage holding a microphone, and she has lifted the atmosphere of the whole house. 

“Hello, hello?” A young girl’s voice comes through the screen and Bhadra appears. “Ajay is on his way to the leaders, get prepared guys! I’ll hand the mic over to him.”  
“Thank you Bhadra,” says Noore. Cheers burst out in the arena.  
“This is Ajay Ghale, the player is heading to Amita right now.”  
His voice transports through earphones of both leaders. Amita’s face has turned excited rather than nervous like earlier, while Sabal hisses with a dissatisfied sound.  
“Looks like the player hasn’t made up their mind yet. They’re heading to Sabal now!”  
Back in the arena, Amita’s supporters are wearing yellow T-shirts with a tiger illustration on each of them, and Sabal’s guys are dressed in blue shirts and holding flags with cartoon elephants. They’re all yelling now, happy or not.

“Hey, hey, what’s happening inside there?!” Someone is yelling outside the arena too. It’s a guy with red sleeveless top and fancy shaved haircut. He’s trying to get inside the arena but is rejected.  
“I’m sorry, you’re not allowed to go inside since you’re not from this game.” The arena guard, one of Noore’s girls, firmly rejects the man again.  
“Well, you know what?” The guy drags a young man who was standing shyly behind him, wearing a dark blue T-shirt. “This is Jason, and he is the fucking main character from the previous installment of this fucking game, and that— is his brothers and chicks, and we came a fucking long way to see this motherfucking contest, so get the fuck away and let us in!”  
“It’s ok, we’ll just leave,” Jason says and tries to pull the guy back. But then he spots a dude wearing sunglasses that easily gets passed through by the girl. “Oh hey, is that... Willis! Willis, it’s so good to see you! Can you help us get inside there?”  
“Sorry, kid, rules are rules,” says the guy named Willis, in a classic American accent.  
“What a dick,” Jason complains.  
That’s the moment when Hurk shows up, a pizza box in one hand and a Bud Light in the other. How did he even get those??  
“Jason! Man! I didn’t know you were coming!” Hurk then talks to the guard, “This is my man Jason Brody, and he’s a friend of a friend of Ajay Ghale, so just let him pass, gal!”  
The girl shakes her head again.  
“Oh, what?” Hurk is going to argue, but another voice interrupts him.  
“What’s going on here?” A man asks in a deep and confident tone. He seems to be middle-aged, dressed in traditional Kyrati clothes.  
The girl explains to him politely, “They are from Far Cry 3. Noore said only Far Cry 4 characters and NPCs could enter the arena.”  
“Let them in. Pagan Min would agree with me.”  
“All right, if the great Mohan says so.” The girl finally steps back, allowing them a space to walk through.  
Hurk shows an expression of super amazement as he points at the man with both index fingers. “You’re Ajay’s dead old daddy! Oh, I mean, you’re not dead after all! Well, at least not in this situation.”

A few seconds later Pagan sees them coming inside. “Oh, not Vaas.” He rolls his eyes. “I just can’t understand why people on the internet say that I mimic him.”  
“You are indeed a unique villain, King Min,” says another guy seated in the corner of Pagan’s VIP balcony. The guy is dressed exactly the same as he is and they look almost the same as well.  
“Oh, shut up Eric.” Pagan is about to say more but Mohan has arrived at the balcony with his old friend Darpan, so Pagan changes the subject. “Well, well, late again as usual. I guess you must be really busy, being a legend,” Pagan says sarcastically.  
Mohan simply ignores what he just said. “Where’s my wife?”  
“You mean your ex-wife?”  
Mohan stares at him angrily as if Pagan just threw a pebble at him.  
“Lakshmana asked to see the vendors, so they went together.”  
Speaking of the vendors, Rabi Ray Rana, Mumu Chiffon and Sharma Salsa all have their own booths in the arena. And of course Yogi and Reggie are participating as well. Longinus is also giving sermons there.  
Mohan doesn’t seem interested. He looks at the big screen instead. “What do we have now?”  
“So far our boy is heading to your little puppy, I mean puppet... well, but both terms are right in your case, so may I take back my correction?”  
While they’re having their little argument, Darpan eyes Paul uneasily since he is sitting right beside him. “Relax, buddy, it was nothing personal, I just have to follow my script,” Paul says.

Suddenly the noise in the arena has reached the highest point: Turns out the player has finally made their decision already. Amita wins this time!  
The two leaders come out of the houses after Ajay leaves; Amita raises her hands cheering for the victory of the tigers.  
“You’ll be killed in Tirtha anyway!” Sabal shouts and points at her angrily.  
“What a loser,” Amita says, shrugging her shoulders.  
Mohan sighs.  
“Want a drink?” Pagan offers him a glass.  
Mohan shakes his head. “I don’t drink.”  
“You sure?”  
“I...well, fuck it.”  
Pagan smiles while Mohan takes the glass from him.

The whole place is cheering! No matter which leader you prefer, it’s the only Jalendu Festival each round after all, you have to cheer!  
There are no boundaries no matter what you identify as: citizens, quest givers, enemies, Rakshasas and even animals. Golden Path soldiers hugging Royal Army soldiers, hell, they even kiss each other!

But no sooner after the celebration, a Royal Guard captain shouts out: “What the hell are you doing! Get to Jalendu, you fucking lazy pigs!”  
Some Royal Guards seem to awaken from a sweet dream and rush out of the arena immediately. The captain is still yelling: “Get your fucking asses moving! NOW!”  
The soldiers rush to the temple to prepare their welcome for the player.  
“Babe! this place is more fun than the Rook Islands. Now I wish I could stay here forever,” Vaas sighs in admiration.  
“No, you’re not welcome here, get your ass outta here when the event is over,” Pagan replies as he passes by.  
That’s pretty much everything about the Jalendu Festival you need to know.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy the story!  
> And thanks to Fuzzy again for correcting grammars!


End file.
